The Golden Spaniard

by Dennis Wheatley

  “It’s not. And frankly I shouldn’t be sorry of the chance to send you there. As long as you’re loose in Madrid you stand a big chance of being shot up. Once you’re in prison you’ll be out of harm’s way.”

  “That’s what the Nazis call preventive arrest, isn’t it?” sneered the Duke. “How about you, Rex? Do you associate yourself with Commissar Aron’s charming proposals for the treatment of your old friends?”

  Rex looked wretchedly miserable. “Well,” he hesitated. “I’ll not say I exactly O.K.’d this little idea of Simon’s. To my mind you’re both pretty capable of taking care of yourselves without being spoon-fed, and Lord knows I don’t want to see you behind the bars.”

  “Then it seems it’s only with Simon we have to deal.”

  “No. I wouldn’t go quite that far. Oh, Hell!” The big American pulled out a handkerchief and began to mop his face. “You see, it’s this way. I’m in this thing with Simon. Whatever he says goes, and I mean to back him. He knows best what’s got to be done for the protection of Democracy.”

  “Democracy my foot!” Richard exclaimed angrily. “If you’d seen one half the things we saw a week ago tonight you wouldn’t talk such utter rot.”

  “I’ve seen plenty,” Rex retorted. “And I don’t like it any better than you do. But you can’t damn a political faith just because a lot of hobos take advantage of a crisis to commit excesses for a few hours in the streets.”

  “A few hours!” cried Richard furiously. “Why they’re still dragging people into cars and bumping them off outside Madrid at the rate of two hundred a night. And what are you smug fools doing to stop it? Nothing! You come here playing at amateur detectives instead of using any influence you’ve got to control the Marxist rabble. While we stand here arguing about cigar butts and gold, scores of people are being murdered—murdered! D’you understand?”

  “I know, I know. But if the Fascists had come out on top it’ud be every bit as bad.”

  “I deny that!” de Richleau said with sudden heat. “For God’s sake, you two, try and get down to fundamentals. The Army, the Fascists and the Catholics stand for the maintenance of order and the free practice of their religion. Whereas the people you’re tied up with stand for disorder, anarchy, chaos.”

  Simon whipped round towards him. “That’s untrue. We’re out to build a better State where men and women will be free. Every type of creation has its birth-pangs and Spain’s going through the agony of childbirth now. What do a few lives matter if the lot of a whole people can be bettered?”

  “D’you suggest that people are better off in Russia than they are in Germany or Italy?”

  “Yes. Not materially, but at least they’re free.”

  “Nonsense. There are still five hundred political executions in Russia every month although it’s twenty years since the Revolution.”

  “If reactionaries intrigue against the State they have to pay the penalty, but bands of young bullies don’t pull the Jews out of their beds every day and scrub them like they do in Germany.”

  “For God’s sake, Simon, use your sense of proportion. The German Jew-baiting is horrible, I know, but it isn’t wholesale murder.”

  “Who wants to live under a tyranny like that? What’s it matter if a few rich people like you and I go down the drain if we make room for something new and better? Can’t you see that all the old systems are rotten? Reactionaries like you and Richard only prolong the misery and international strife that always results from Monarchies and Dictatorships. We’re looking to the future. To the time when the common people of the world, who have nothing to quarrel about, will be the masters and there will be no more war.”

  De Richleau banged the table with his clenched fist. “You’re mad! Stark, staring crazy to believe in these fantastic ideas. I’d give my life tomorrow if you could guarantee that there would be no more wars. So would thousands of other people. But we know your insane theories can’t work as long as human nature’s what it is. You think you’ve found something new, you poor fool. Did you know there was a Communist Revolution in Lower Egypt three thousand years ago? They sacked the palaces and murdered the rich just as your friends are doing tonight, But where did it get them? They had time enough to develop their perfect State. For eighty years they lived under Soviets then the graft got so bad they murdered their Commissars and reverted to a Monarchy.”

  “It’s you who’re mad!” Simon blamed. “Or worse. You’re as spiritually dead as the mummies you’re talking about. How can you compare conditions in Ancient Egypt with things at the present day?”

  “I can and I do. There have always been Masters and there have always been Men. ‘Better one Master than five hundred’, as Charles II said when he dismissed his last Parliament and decided to rule without it. That’s the answer.”

  “But that wasn’t Democratic,” Rex protested.

  “Democratic be damned!” roared the Duke. “D’you get better wages, or hours, or more to eat under this myth called Democracy? Do you live longer or have any better chance of achieving security in your old age or for your children? Of course you don’t.”

  “You couldn’t better the British Constitution.”

  “Who in hell’s name said you could? But that’s based on Monarchy and a national respect for order. Whereas here there’s no middle way. Spain’s got to accept Dictatorship or Anarchy, There’s far less freedom under the Soviets than there is under Hitler or Mussolini. No sane person who knows the facts can contest that. All you’re helping to do is to get your own class murdered. You’ve become the sort of lunatics who’re putty in the hands of the destroyers. The living forces of evil who are out to smash every lovely and decent thing that’s left and the British Constitution among them.”

  “That’s a lie!” cried Simon cold with fury. “You deliberately misrepresent the facts.”

  De Richleau suddenly went pale. “It’s a long time since anyone’s called me a liar,” he said icily. “Even your privileged position, Simon, does not justify that. You will instantly withdraw it.”

  “I withdraw nothing,” said Simon stubbornly.

  “I’ll say you will.” Rex stepped between them. “Simon, you’ll take that back. There’re two sides to every question. You’re entitled to your opinion—but that’s all.”

  “All right,” Simon agreed. “Since you wish it. But I’m not letting up for an instant on my determination to get that gold.”

  “Now listen, boys,” Rex said earnestly. “It’s easy to see we won’t get anywhere by arguing. We just don’t understand each other’s point of view. But one thing sticks out a mile long. It’s all wrong for us four to be at loggerheads. None of us is enjoying this party. Why not let’s call it a day?”

  “What d’you mean?” Richard asked with quick interest.

  “Just this. There’s two of us out shooting Fascists and two of us out shooting Marxists. Well, we know each other, don’t we? Both Simon and I and you and the Duke are going to do each of the other sides the hell of a lot of damage before we’re through. That is, if we stay in our respective rackets. Why not let’s pair as they do in the House of Commons. Leave these poor boobs to have their shooting-match, and all four of us beat it for home.”

  “That’s the soundest thing that’s been said here tonight,” declared Richard. “I’m with you, Rex. We’ll only stalemate each other if we stay. Let’s leave the Spaniards to fight it out. The roses must be lovely now at Cardinal’s Folly. All three of you come down and stay.”

  “What about the gold?” asked Simon.

  “We’ll leave that put,” said Rex. “Neither side’s got it at the moment. It can stay where it is until the fuss is over.”

  “But the other side’s got it,” objected Simon. “I can’t let them get away with it.”

  “My only undertaking is to prevent it falling into the hands of the Government,” said the Duke. “If you’ll give me guarantees that it shall remain untouched and be returned intact to its owner when things have settled do
wn again I’ll agree to Rex’s suggestion.”

  “Sorry. I can’t.” Simon shook his head. “With the country as it is I can’t guarantee anything. You couldn’t if you were in my shoes. You know that.”

  “I appreciate your difficulty but I am in a position of trust. Without such guarantees I can’t leave Spain. However, there’s nothing to tie Richard. I shall be delighted if he cares to pair with Rex.”

  Richard shook his head. “I only came out because of you and I wouldn’t dream of leaving without yon.”

  “That’s just how it is with me and Simon,” agreed Rex sadly.

  “Meet you if I could,” said Simon, “but I’m in a position of trust too. This gold’s most important thing on my agenda. Rebels might use it to buy a whole armada of war-planes—then we’d be sunk. I’ll hate to do it but I’m still going to arrest you if you refuse to declare it.”

  “Is that wise?” asked Richard ominously. “We’ve seen the insides of prisons before, remember—Bolshevik prisons with plenty of armed guards—and the fact that we had to kill a few didn’t stop us getting out. I’m warning you now that having seen the way your Communist friends are abusing their power in Spain I shall have no compunction about shooting any of them you may put to guard us.”

  “Special precautions for such dangerous prisoners,” Simon jerked out. “Guards will be answerable to me with their lives for your safety but they’ll be Trostkyites who won’t stand any nonsense.”

  “Good!” Richard flashed. “I never did like Trotsky. A vile fellow and a windbag to boot. I’ve often wondered why some White Russian exile hasn’t put a bullet in his guts. I’ll see if I can’t send a few of his followers to hell.”

  “Now go easy,” Rex intervened. “This is no time for wisecracks. If Simon’s sending you down for a spell in the Model Prison for the Land’s sake don’t do any monkey-busines of trying to break out.”

  “He hasn’t got us in there yet,” remarked the Duke. “Has it occurred to you that we still have to be arrested? Simon says this place is surrounded. Well and good, but both Richard and I are armed. I can hardly think the four of us are quite so lost to all sense of reason as to shoot each other up, so it comes to myself and Richard versus the police outside. It’s the same situation, Simon, as when we were in the Palace Hotel. Heads we win tails you lose unless you’re prepared to see us massacred in the street.”

  “Not quite,” replied Simon. “Thought of that and came prepared. Got your mask, Rex?”

  With a shrug of his broad shoulders and a friendly grin Rex pulled a gas mask out of his pocket and adjusted it over his face. Simon produced one at the same moment and stepped back until he was partly sheltered by Rex’s big body.

  “Sorry to appear mistrustful,” he said, “but you might be tempted to rush me, and Rex is big enough to stall you both off. See this?”

  He held up a three-inch long glass tube that was a good half-inch in diameter and nearly full of a brownish liquid. “It’s tear gas,” he went on. “Quite harmless. I just throw a frew drops about and your eyes will start to irritate abominably. You’ll both cry your hearts out and in the meantime you won’t be able to see a thing. The police’ll arrive at my signal, disarm you and carry you out to a waiting car. No trouble, no shooting, no fuss.”

  “Stop!” De Richleau threw up a hand and suddenly laughed again. “You win, Simon. I give you full marks.”

  “You’re going to tell me where that gold is?”

  “Oh, no. But I’d rather go to prison quietly than have you use that stuff. I know it’s technically harmless but I had it in the War and for days afterwards my eyes were inflamed. If we’re going to be cooped up in prison I’d like to do some reading. Perhaps you could secure me a set of Proust. That’s just the thing to re-read when one has lots of leisure.”

  “Do my best,” Simon nodded. “You give me your word you won’t try anything on the police?”

  “Yes. When you’ve handed us over to them we’ll go like lambs.”

  “I’m so glad. Honestly you’ll be quite safe in the Model Prison and that’s what concerns me more than anything else. I hope, though, you’ll think it over about the gold as I wouldn’t like to have to keep you there indefinitely.”

  The Duke relaxed. “Ah, well, I can’t say anything for the moment but if we get tired of prison I may make a bargain with you, I’d have to consult my principals about that. But for the time being you’re clearly master of the situation.”

  “I’ll see you’re comfortable and decently looked after,” Simon grinned. “D’you mind handing over your guns?”

  Richard and de Richleau surrendered their arms. Rex took both pistols as Simon said, “Sure you won’t change your mind about talking before I call in the—er—cops?”

  “No. I can’t do that. Still.…” de Richleau hesitated.

  “What?”

  “Well, since we’re united again it might not be a bad idea to split a magnum before you march us off. God knows when Richard and I’ll see another and there’s some G. H. Mumm Cordon Rouge 1921 of the proper cuvée 31 downstairs.”

  “Fine,” said Rex. “Lead me to it.”

  “Quite certain you don’t mind, Simon?” the Duke asked.

  “Ner. Could do with a chink myself. Glad to join you. Show there’s no ill-feeling.”

  Taking the lamp they made their way down to the basement. The wine-cellars of the old Palace were on a scale with the building. The outer one, and largest, contained four rows of bulky oak scantlings upon which a good sixty casks could have been stored. In times past the Valdepenas for the servants and light wines for general use would have been kept there but now the scantlings held only a few empty barrels. Two other cellars opened into it, each lined with rows of big stone bins; that on the right contained mainly red wines and that on the left champagnes, brandies, etc.

  In the champagne cellar a few old cases had been turned up on end to form seats and a rough table; since the Duke and Richard had used it frequently as the handiest spot to rest and refresh without carting bottles about during their many hours’ labour shifting the gold.

  De Richleau walked straight over to the bin of Mumm and pulled out a dusty magnum. He carried it to the impromptu table, on which there were two glasses, and sitting down with it between his knees began to untwist the wire as he said, “Richard, you might fetch another couple of goblets from the pantry, will you?”

  “Right oh,” murmured Richard and turning on his heel, he walked back through the outer cellar into the passage.

  The slightly rusted wire on the magnum broke and for a few moments the Duke was busy prising it off with his penknife. He then very gently eased the cork with his finger and thumb. It was old wine. No danger of its overflowing. The long cork, compressed as hard as wood from its many years in the neck of the bottle, came out with a gentle plop. A little eddy of infinitesimal bubbles like a trail of smoke drifted out as he set the big bottle down on the table.

  “Where the devil’s Richard got to with those glasses?” he muttered, and standing up, he went to the door.

  Rex was lighting a cigarette at that moment and Simon was poking his beaky nose into one of the bins with the interest of a connoisseur.

  “Richard! Richard!” shouted the Duke stepping across the threshold to the outer cellar. Next second he had grabbed the door and slammed it.

  In one leap Rex was over the table but as he seized the knob to wrench the door open he heard the key turn in the lock.

  De Richleau was already half-way across the outer cellar. He sprang through the door and slamming it behind him locked that as well.

  Richard had gone no farther than the passage. He knew, and he knew that the Duke knew, that there were no glasses in the pantry. They were all upstairs in the salon or locked away in cupboards. He had gone off obediently, wondering if de Richleau had got him out of it with the idea that he should attempt to escape on his own so that at least one of them would remain free, but decided that he had better wait there for a
little in case some other game was on.

  As the second door slammed he flashed his torch. De Richleau was standing there with his hand over his eyes. “Oh, God!” he groaned. “How tragic it is to see two such splendid fellows degenerate into dangerous lunatics. But I’ve got them locked up now.”

  “Rex is so strong he could break down any wooden door,” Richard’s voice was grave. “Besides, they can blow the locks to pieces with their guns.” Even while he spoke there came a terrific thump as Rex hurled his weight against the inner door.

  “I know, I know,” muttered de Richleau. “But the locks are old and solid. It’ll take ten minutes for them to break out.”

  “What’s the good of that when the whole place is surrounded by police and we’ve given our word not to resist them. We’ll never be able to slip into the street unobserved.”

  “That,” admitted the Duke, “is damnably true.”

  ‘Then,” said Richard bitterly, “it looks to me as if we’re sunk after all.”

  Chapter XVII

  Escape to Trouble

  Another thud came on the door of the inner cellar and the sound of splintering wood; Rex was using one of the empty cases to stave the panels in.

  “God!” exclaimed Richard, “how utterly maddening to know you’ve tricked them and we can’t take advantage of it.”

  “We’re neither dead nor arrested yet,” declared the Duke, “and we’ve got about eight minutes to go.”

  “We can’t possibly disguise ourselves in that time.”

  “Even if we could the police would pinch us directly we left the house. As it is, they don’t know what we look like so they’ll arrest anyone who comes out either with, or without, Rex and Simon.”

  They turned automatically towards the stairs. The unceasing hail of blows that was now raining on the cellar door faded behind them. As they reached the hall Richard asked, “How about the roof-tops?”

  “No good. Simon said he’d had the whole block surrounded. When he gets out he’ll be livid with rage and have every house in it searched. Still, come on up to the attics. With a little luck we’ll cheat him yet.”